


Coffee

by Lepord257



Series: Dead Men verse [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, and the mercs still havent shown up, still only kind of a merc!wash au, wash is having a Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 05:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepord257/pseuds/Lepord257
Summary: It’s been so long since he’s had good coffee. Not since prison. Since Freelancer. Since training. Fuck, if he cries over coffee he’s going to surgically remove his own tear ducts.On a prison ship in the ass-end of nowhere, a guard brings Wash coffee.





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I write a lot about coffee for someone who doesn't drink it. I am Qualified, I swear.

Breakfast on the Tartarus is always a dangerous affair. Violent assholes jockeying for power don’t tend to care whether or not Wash is invested in prison politics. And despite Colorado’s claim that he was going to be keeping an eye on Wash, the freelancer is still dead asleep in their cell when breakfast rolls around. So when he spots Price weaving towards him, he’s ready to give the whole thing up as a bad job and follow Colorado’s example of sleeping till noon and not giving a shit.

The bastard gets as far as opening his mouth before he catches sight of something over Wash’s shoulder, makes a surprisingly tight about-face for a civilian, and retreats fast enough that Wash is left with a Price-shaped dust cloud reminiscent of old cartoons.

Wash is almost willing to accept it and move on. Almost. An amused snort from behind him stops him from accepting Price’s retreat as his universe owed break of the year.

“I wasn’t even gonna threaten him.” Alaska crows. “This time.” They bump shoulders with him and smile. “I’m guessing Jael isn’t up yet?”

Wash nods wordlessly. He’s not sure what Al wants yet. At least with Hargrove and Freelancer he’d had an idea of what they wanted. But he can’t extrapolate motive from the bare bones of their mutinous service record and steady non-presence on the MOI.

Al looks him over with a thoughtful expression. “You like coffee?”

And it’s not like he can say  _ no _ . So he nods and follows them out of the cafeteria, down hallways he hadn’t realized existed until they reach a door that marks the transition from prison to staff area. 

“Be right back,” says Al, and  _ wow _ is Wash doing a lot of nodding in this sham of a conversation. You’d think by this point he’d be better at the obligatory “let’s make small talk like there isn’t a cartoonishly exaggerated power imbalance” thing. He’s had enough practice.

Al returns ten minutes later with a thermos and creamer and sugar packets. “I don’t know how you take it,” they apologize, handing it off. Wash just shrugs and waits for Al to get to the point.

They don’t. They just stand there, watching him expectantly. Right, coffee. Normal people drink coffee when it’s been handed to them. He forgoes the frills in favor of getting this whole ordeal over with.

“It’s good.”

It is. It really is. It’s been so long since he’s had good coffee. Not since prison. Since Freelancer. Since training. Fuck, if he cries over coffee he’s going to surgically remove his own tear ducts.

Focus. Breathe. The hallway is empty and there’s never been kindness without a price tag. “Want me to take some back to Co- to Jael?”

“Nah, the caffeine reacts weird with his ADHD. I’ll bring him tea later.”

So much for plan Repay Your Debt Before They Call It In. Figures Alaska’d have something more in mind for him than delivery boy. But they don’t say anything. No ominus statements, no ‘polite’ requests, no questions. Just coffee. Eventually, Alaska checks their watch and sighs about having an actual job. Makes their excuses. Leaves Wash adrift and alone in the hallway.

The second they round the corner, Wash slumps against the wall feeling like he’s run a marathon. Blowing up Command wasn’t half as nerve-wracking as being handed coffee. And he  _ took _ it! Like gifts weren’t earned. Like mercies weren’t bled for. Like kindness wasn’t conditional.

He should- he should get rid of this. Find a sink. Pour it out. Whatever the price is, he doesn’t want to pay it.

But.

He already took it.

He moves before he can second guess himself, unscrewing the lid and dumping in the sugar packet. Coffee or no coffee, Al holds all the cards. He’ll cut any deal he has to so long as it gets him off this ship. If the choice is owing them with coffee and owing them without coffee, he’ll take the coffee.

Wash takes another sip. It’s not quite sweet enough for his tastes, but it’s a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Still Ivekilledmonsters on tumblr. hmu


End file.
